


In the Park

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [7]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hard day of death and betrayal, Murray finds comfort in a pastoral setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Park

**Author's Note:**

> Tag to The Orange Grove, so major spoilers for that ep.  
> Bonus story, as promised, for my enthusiastic Freundin, milomaus, who gives me strength.  
> 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to come here?"

Murray looked up, startled, and tried to smile. But it wasn't his smile. It was twisted and scared and something else. Something that matched the closed-off emptiness of his eyes, like a forgotten room behind a locked door.

"I wasn't doing anything," he said in a voice that also wasn't quite his. "And I don't know why you care, anyway. I'm not in protective custody anymore. I don't need you looking out for me."

"I don't know, kid. I think maybe you do." Quinlan sat down beside him on the bench, his gaze following Murray's across the park. It wasn't dark, it wouldn't be for a while, and the cruisers and bruisers had yet to arrive. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Murray would sit here until they came, whether he meant to or not. "It's been a bad couple of days, hasn't it?"

"Kind of," he shrugged, then whispered, "Lieutenant, how could you think we were holding cocaine on the boat? I know you got a phone call, but you knew better. Didn't you?"

"I didn't want to believe it, but I had to check it out. It's my job. And I never thought you were involved. Ryder and Allen, I don't know them that well."

"Come on, Ted, don't give me that. You knew. You just like pushing us around."

"I couldn't let people think I was giving you special treatment. And I was, you know. If anyone else had been handling the investigation, you'd all have been in jail, waiting for the FBI, just like they planned."

"Yeah," he sighed, conceding the point. But his eyes were still far away.

"Should've hit that party boat this morning and got your mind off things," Quinlan said.

"We did. I think General Johnson is still there. It's just—well, I was still kind of tired. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Do you ever?"

"Sometimes," he said vaguely. "But yesterday—I killed those men—those soldiers. They were corrupt and everything, sure, but they were still U.S. Army and—and I…"

"Blew 'em out of the sky. Yeah, I heard."

Murray turned to him and for the first time Quinlan saw a little of the man he loved in those shuttered eyes. As if the locks had slipped and the door opened just a crack.

"Is that why you're here? Still protecting me?"

"Still trying to."

"Don't want to lose your favorite toy, huh?"

"Never said you were my favorite," Quinlan said, still trying to protect himself, too. But he regretted it when he saw Murray flinch, his eyes going away again, as fast as slamming a door. "But yeah, you are. And I don't want to lose you. Not because of something like this. Some fucked up Army officers couldn't keep their shit together and you had to help settle it down. That was good work you did, Murray. Damn good."

"Then why do I feel so bad?" he whispered, his eyes suddenly wide open and naked, exposing every emotion he'd ever felt in a kaleidoscope of fear and pain.

"Because you're a good person, geek-o. Makes the tough shit a lot tougher."

"But how can a killer be a good person?"

"Hell, we've all killed someone. I've shot people in the line of duty. Your friends killed people in the war. I did that, too. And you—you've probably killed more than any of us with the weapons you designed. That's what you did, isn't it?"

Murray had told him about that during the interminable week in the woods and been surprised by Quinlan's tacit acceptance and veiled praise. He hadn't thought then that being a weapons designer was no shame among soldiers. Now it was the only thing he had to hold onto.

"I guess so. But it's different when you don't see it."

Beside him, the other man sighed and nodded his head. There was nothing to say about that, so when he spoke, it was to change the subject.

"Freaks are gonna be coming out soon. You want me to give you a ride home?"

"Your place or mine?"

"Whichever you want. You're the hero today, kid."

"I don't feel much like one."

"You will. And if you don't, it doesn't matter."

"No, I guess it doesn't. Thanks, Lieutenant." He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and replaced them carefully. Quinlan got up and Murray followed, walking beside him to his car. The lieutenant was right, he decided. Being a hero didn't matter. Nothing anyone else thought did, so long as he knew he'd done the right thing. And maybe tonight, curled safely in Ted's arms, worn out from the rough but tender sex that surely awaited, he would sleep and not dream.

No matter what Quinlan thought, coming to the park usually solved his problems.


End file.
